


Tell It To the Walls

by farfarawaygirl



Category: Chicago Fire
Genre: F/M, Slow Burn, friends - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:48:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22214314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farfarawaygirl/pseuds/farfarawaygirl
Summary: {one shot}Sylvie is kind of blue, Matt notices.
Relationships: Matt Casey/Sylvie Brett, Matthew Casey/Sylvie Brett, Sylvie Brett & Matt Casey, Sylvie Brett & Matthew Casey
Comments: 2
Kudos: 119





	Tell It To the Walls

**Author's Note:**

> Why can they not share a scene?

It’s not that Matt regrets his night with Gabby. He doesn’t. Not really. She was his wife. And she is someone who is important to him. It’s just that he knows the house is talking about it. Which is fine, they can speculate all they like, it’s just that maybe someone is getting the wrong idea. 

Sylvie told him to go, that he would regret it if he didn’t. And he knows she meant it. She always puts others first. But, at the same time, sometimes when he finds his mind drifting he thinks of how he almost asked her to that Charity dinner with Boden. Maybe he regrets not asking her to that. 

Twice now in the middle of a shift he has looked up and seen this look on Sylvie’s face. It’s hard to describe, but it looks like someone if telling her something that causes her pain. When he ties to listen in, it’s usually someone talking about him and Gabby. 

Honestly it’s felt different between them since her engagement. And then her moving back. Now, it’s been weeks since he’s really seen her. 

It’s closing in on January and Severide is still covering off for OFI. With him gone, and Brett busy Matt feels a little lonely in the house. Their are a slew of relief lieutenants passing through to cover squad, once or twice Cruz has even covered. Herrmann most have picked up on his moodiness because he’s invited him to a Saturday night dinner. 

Cindy has been the most gracious hostess, and since he’s know her she has always been kind and caring. Her food is pretty good too. Saturday after they get off shift, Casey gets some sleep, puts in a few hours on a remodel, goes to the gym and then heads to Herrmann’s. 

Matt is surprise when he see’s Sylvie crossing the street outside Herrmann’s house. She’s going out not in. Barely turning of his car he calls her name, and jogs over to where she’s standing. 

The first thing he registers is that she’s been crying. Her eyes are a little red, and her makeup is washed away. Automatically he reaches an arm out to rest on her bicep. 

“What’s wrong?”

Shaking her head, she kind of hiccups, before answering, “nothing.”

“Sylvie, you’ve been crying.”

Her mittened hands go to her face, green knit obscuring her cheeks and mouth. Over the pattern she squints a little. Matt registers the embarrassment she must feel, and tries to pop the bubble. 

“Cindy’s dinner that bad?”

The truck works, because she ducks her head a little, and smiles back up at him. 

“I was up with Stella.”

“Did you too fight?” Matt’s surprised. 

“No! Nothing like that.”

Matt thinks of the time with those purple flowers this last spring. How she unburdened her heart with him, and he knows she won’t do it now. 

“I’m sorry that I’ve been so distant, it’s been hard with Severide out of the house.”

Matt’s hand is still on her arm, and he watches helplessly as her eyes involuntarily full with tears. The whites are red now, not just pinkish, and Sylvie is swallowing hard. 

“It’s nothing, I promise.” She stomps her foot in frustration, “just a bad call.”

“Well, I’m here if you need me. Day or night.”

Sylvie bites her lip, gathers herself together and nods. She makes a mumbled excuse and gets in her car. Since she parked it the window has fogged, but she determinedly looks ahead and avoids Casey’s eyes. With nothing else to do he makes his way to door. 

Dinner is good, but crazy. It’s a completely alien environment to anything Matt has ever lived in. There are kids everywhere. Annabelle wants to show him her art project, and Kenny displays his loose tooth. Cindy serves dessert while Luke and Max discuss a science fair. It ignites in Matt a particular longing. He’s wanted a family since his fell part. 

He came close with Gabby and Louis. But they crumbled as well. It’s hard to picture a future that is missing the things he’s always taken for granted would be there. He’s listening to Annabelle tell him about her plans to go on a sleepover when he hears what Cindy is saying to Herrmann. 

“He’d be perfect for Sylvie!”

Matt looks over I time to see Herrmann pull a face. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Cindy questions. 

“Brett made me promise to not set her up.”

“Good, then I can do it.” Cindy replies loftily. 

Matt feels a little unsettled as he returns to Annabelle. He’s not sure why the idea of Brett being set up puts him on edge, but it ends the night in a sour note for him. 

Later, as he’s setting his alarm, he decides on a whim to text Sylvie. 

Matt Casey: hope you’re alright. 

She doesn’t reply. 

——————————————

Because adult life is a lot like a game of telephone, he hears from Kelly who hears from Kidd, who saw the whole thing, that Sylvie and Foster are on the outs. Matt waits until the next morning to text Sylvie. 

Matt Casey: hey. Want to talk? 

Sylvie Brett: Not really. 

Matt stares at his phone. The bubbles reappear. 

Sylvie Brett: I don’t want to talk, but I don’t want to sit around. 

Matt Casey: I’ll pick you up in twenty, wear some old clothes and sturdy shoes. 

He watches the text indicator bubble appear and disappear for a few moments, phone gripped tightly in his hand. Just when he decides to put the phone down, a message comes in. 

Sylvie Brett: I’ve got coffee. 

————-

When Casey’s truck pulls up in front of her building, Sylvie is ready in the lobby. She’s got on a old pair of EMS boots, that are salt stained from a few Chicago winters, her oldest, paint spattered jeans, and so many layers. A tank top, an old university sweater, an even older old flannel that she stole from her dad, a puffer vest and a coat. Wrapped around her neck is a warm, knit scarf, and there is a cup of coffee in each hand. 

Because of the coffee Matt has to reach over and push the door open, she wedges in a elbow and pops it open all the way. A momentary awkward shuffle as she hands over coffee, and settles herself in the truck. 

“Thanks for the coffee.” 

Sylvie smiles, but notices how Casey seems to study her, looking from her mouth to her eyes, and then setting his shoulders. 

“I guess we’ll get on the road.”

An old National song is playing on the radio, and to encourage silence Sylvie leans over and turns it up. Casey either gets the message, or doesn’t care to talk, because they drive in silence for about twenty minutes, turning down into an older neighborhood outside their district. It’s not familiar to Sylvie, but she likes the houses. Well cared for, and neat. Some still have Christmas lights up, and she wonders what they’d look like all lit up. 

Casey stops the truck outside a small grey bungalow, turns off the ignition and waits for the song to end before he gets out. Sylvie follows. They left their empty coffee cups in the cab, but their hands are filled up with tools and accessories soon enough. Matt hands her a set of work gloves, and some knee pads, Sylvie jungles them and the tool kit he offers her. He uses a key to open the side door, off the car port, and Sylvie can’t help but wrinkle her nose at the house. 

It’s clearly seen better days. The walls are dented, the floor stained, and the lights flicker above them. 

“You don’t want to talk, so we’re going to smash some stuff instead.”

For the first time in days Sylvie feels like her smile reaches her eyes. Matt’s answering smile makes her think so too. 

After some brief directions, and a pair of safety glasses Sylvie sets to smashing up an old wall. She works methodically, left to right, from the top down. It’s hard work. She feels the strain in her shoulders and weirdly her forearms. But it also seems to work out the stress. 

Sylvie is not even really aware of the time, until she looks over to see Matt standing there with a bag of burritos in his hand.

They eat them side by side on the top of the porch stairs, watching the cool January morning turn to afternoon. 

“It’s hard to be the boss.” Matt starts. 

Beside him Sylvie snorts. 

“Casey, not one single person who has ever served under you has thought that they were a better fireman than you.”

She had turned toward him, and there is an endearing dot of sour cream on her lip. 

“Ever since I’ve known you, you’ve been the fireman to beat. Lieutenant, now Captain. No one on your team doubts that you know to run the show.”

“All I was going to say is that, it is a hard balance, being in charge and being a friend. It sucks more when your friend is acting like an idiot.”

Sylvie purses her lips, and Matt stills when he sees a tear leak down her face. He wants to comfort her, but he doesn’t think he’s in a position to. He settles for patting her knee. 

Out of the blue Sylvie poses a question, her voice small in the porch. “How’s Gabby?”

Matt withdraws his hand. From the corner of his eye, he see that this has a reaction for Sylvie. She nods, like she got confirmation for something she was looking for. This makes Matt want to explain. It’s now him turning towards her, their knees bumping together, and to straighten them out, Matt grabs on of her legs, right below the knee, and holds on. 

“That’s not a thing.”

Sylvie is just staring at him. Matt lets out a groan, and knocks the back of his head against the post behind him. 

“It’s not! I mean, I don’t think I’d call that night closure. But, maybe, it was?” 

“Closure?”

“When she went it Puerto Rico, she just did it, and she kept on making these life altering decisions without even consulting me. Some, when she came back, it felt like I had a say. But, It was still a reminder that we want different things. Even if we work in some ways, we don’t in the ways that matter.”

“What ways matter?” Ask Sylvie. 

“What you want in the long run. Family. Where you want to live.”

At that Sylvie snorts. 

“I never want to leave Chicago. I can’t believe I thought I could live in Fowlerton again.”

“Small town no longer your thing?” Matt wants to laugh, she doesn’t feel like a small town girl. 

“No, I’m a Chicago girl now.”

Matt is suddenly reminded of the day he and Gabby ended it for good, over a year ago, when she asked him to come with her. He’d said no. He was a Chicago guy. 

“There are worse things to be.” Matt said, the corner of his mouth turning up. 

“Come on,” Sylvie replied, pulling him up with her, “let’s go tell it to the walls.”


End file.
